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I’m looking for the face I had, before the world was made.

William Butler Yeats

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The tragedy of sexual intercourse is the perpetual virginity of the soul.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Sex Soul Tragedy Virgin
Talent perceives differences; genius, unity.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Difference Genius Talent Unity
Hammer your thoughts into unity.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Build Inspirational Reality Unity Yourself
The worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk they are sober.
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One should say before sleeping: I have lived many lives. I have been a slave and a prince. Many a beloved has sat upon my knee and I have sat upon the knees of many a beloved. Everything that has been shall be again.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

King Life Live Slave Sleep Soul Spiritual
Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

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Yet they that know all things but know That all this life can give us is, A child’s laughter, a woman’s kiss.
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The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Alive Awake Blood Blow Myself Nature Space Stars Wind
Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

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Literature is always personal, always one man’s vision of the world, one man’s experience, and it can only be popular when men are ready to welcome the visions of others.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Experience Literature Man Personal Ready Vision
Everything in nature is resurrection.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Nature One Liner World
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Appearance Beautiful Day Glow Season Wings
All that I have said and done, Now that I am old and ill, Turns into a question till I lie awake night after night And never get the answers right.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Answer Awake Myself Night Old Question Right Sick
One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Change Face Love Man Soul Yourself
By logic and reason we die hourly; by imagination we live.
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What can be explained is not poetry.
WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

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